


Woman in White

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-29
Updated: 2008-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Lady in White - Pilot Episode; candle, ice cream, dress; "You can't be here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Woman in White

Everyone says she’s a beautiful baby. Her parents are good people, too – honest, Bible-fearing folks. They want to raise her right from day one. _Constance_ , they name her. It’s a little old fashioned, but much about their family is, so no one minds it too much. _Constance_ , because they want her to be steady, a solid woman of virtue, a future wife and mother and someone they can be proud of.

Her christening gown almost glows in the candlelight as her mother holds her out over the basin of Holy water. The Priest flicks sparkling droplets onto the gown, casting shadowy jewels into the delicate linen and lace. 

After, her mother tucks the fragile dress away carefully, stores it in the attic. It’s bright and pure, just like her little girl, and she smiles. 

~*~

She’s seventeen and things are tight, but not so tight that Daddy doesn’t spring for that prom dress; the one she saw in the store window downtown. When she wears it she feels like a princess, and she smiles even as her mother’s eyes fill with tears, thinking inwardly that no one should have to suffer this kind of embarrassment in the middle of the mall. _Connie, baby, when did you grow up so pretty?_ She rolls her eyes, but she laughs when she looks in the mirror. 

Because she _is_ pretty, even though she doesn’t usually feel like it, today she is. Most of her friends would never pick a dress this color; it would only wash them out, but on her it looks amazing. The glittering crystal beads set off the excited sparkles in her eyes just right, and she feels a rush of nerves just thinking about the weekend to come. 

She’s never kissed a boy before, and she’s not sure if she’s ready. 

~*~

A steady rush of adrenaline thrums below her skin as she stands in front of the mirror, staring. She jumps at the soft knock on the door, and then laughs. _Nerves_. From the hesitant way the door starts swinging open, she knows who the visitor will be. She jumps it, putting out her palm to stop its advance.

 _Joseph_ , she laughs, _you can’t be here. It’s bad luck._

She’s done everything right, they’ve waited so long for today, she wants it to be perfect. He relents at the insistence in her voice, and she returns to the mirror. The crinoline and lace flow across satin folds like softly fallen snow, and her breath catches in her throat. 

Her whole life has come down to this moment. She’s never been so happy, so in love. She slowly lowers the veil across her face, hiding her dark eyes, but not the gleam inside of them. She hears the bells chime the hour. 

She leaves the room without a doubt that she’s made the right decision.

~*~ 

It’s summer, and she loves this time of year. Joseph is away on business again, he’s been working late a lot lately, and she misses him, but at least she gets to have this; long, sun-soaked walks in the quiet park with her little girl and boy. 

They laugh and smile up at her, small fingers holding their ice cream cones carefully so they don’t spill, and they are beautiful. Her little girl wears a softly glowing sundress, made to match her momma’s, and the soft linen rustles quietly in the afternoon breeze. Soon it will be Labor Day, and even though she thinks it’s a dumb tradition, they’ll put the sundresses away until spring. 

~*~

She doesn’t understand what’s happened, how everything suddenly turned so _wrong_ all around her. She can’t grasp the reality of it as she watches them close the casket lid, sealing the innocent looking young woman away inside. 

The last thing she remembers is the harsh sting of betrayal, cutting deeper than any physical wound, carving into her very soul. It’s all just flashes after that, but the flashes are something she blocks out, because she thinks they may contain images far, far worse than those of her Joseph admitting the truth.

She’s there, in that box, but she’s _here,_ too, and Joseph is here, and he looks upset. She thinks _how dare you_ ; after all, he stole her innocence, used her love and spat in the face of her unerring faithfulness.

 She doesn’t know, she doesn’t remember right away what happened in the in between. In that moment, the only promise she can make is that no other woman will ever suffer the way she suffered. Not if she can help it.

~*~

Sam Winchester walks into a rundown motel room in Jericho, California, looks at the wall, and says, 

  
_Constance Welch. She’s a Woman in White._   


  



End file.
